


Run

by MissE



Category: Original Work
Genre: Dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-30
Updated: 2011-11-30
Packaged: 2017-10-26 17:31:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/286013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissE/pseuds/MissE
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A prize is to be guarded, and sometimes you have to run to get it to safety.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Run

**Author's Note:**

> An original work written for Fiction Land. Prompt: [Sky Battle](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uGKUSgFNlbg&feature=related) from the Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 1 soundtrack.

He stepped out from his cover, and looked around. The area was desolate, and long shadows seemed to draw closer with every moment. He had to get his parcel back to base, and urgently. Time was not in his favour just now.

Suddenly, he heard a noise, and jerked his head around. There, coming around the corner of the derelict building. His breath caught, and he stiffened, before turning to check the other way. He was in luck, and they were only coming from that direction. He slipped towards the far wall, and the gaping hole left by last month’s bombardment.

As soon as he had cleared that obstacle, he took off, running as if his life depended on it, which it did. The hard object hidden in his jacket, he scrambled over tumbled masonry, scratching his hands as he did, but he didn’t stop, couldn’t stop. To stop meant more than death, it meant failure, and the end of his people. He ran, searching for the next landmark, and grinned fiercely when he saw it. Not slowing down, he leapt for the suspended ladder, and pulled himself up to roll through the open window onto the floor, where he crouched, peering out.

There they were, prowling the street, looking for any sign of him. He put his arm across his mouth, muffling his pants in the heavy fabric of his sleeve. He needed to know if they had caught his scent, or if he could stay here for a little longer. As he watched, heads came up, and he could almost hear the sound of baying wolves. A mad scramble over the rubble had them dragging a misbegotten wretch out of whatever hovel he’d made for himself.

He grit his teeth, and watched, agonised, as they manhandled the gutter-dweller into the open, and roughly searched him, dragging clothes off him in their investigations. He could feel tears seep out as he watched the slow-motion end of another life, but his prize was worth more than both their lives put together, and all he could do was keep witness towards an eventual accounting.

He crept to the back of the building, and slid into the darkness guarding his way. They rarely came out this way, and he could only hope that they would stick to their usual routines. He stopped for a moment to listen, then took off once more.

The next period of time was an endless, burning rush. At one point, he’d dragged his scarf up to muffle the sound of his pants, but he couldn’t afford to stop, to take a breather. They were still out there. Every so often he’d hear something, a scream, the noise of their vehicles, sounds particular to the invaders, and it would remind him that he was still exposed, still vulnerable. And then, finally, the unlit doorway, the gateway to their sanctuary.

He dropped in to the entrance, and stood there, revelling, for a moment, in the peace of their haven. There was still a rush, he still had to hurry, but it was now a positive urgency. He had his prize to present, and he could only hope that it worked. He jogged forward, smiling. The end was yet one step closer.


End file.
